Even the Two-Year-Old Gets It

Last week, Sister and I stole an hour together. (And I use the word "stole" literally...we ditched the boys and sneaked out of the house.) We headed out, she in the stroller and I pushing her, trying to psych myself up for an ambitious FOUR miles in one hour. (Didn't happen, BTW.) About two minutes into our walk, Lucy stops me and says, "Mommy, it's time to pray."

"Huh?" I say. My mind is not on her. I've been pretty preoccupied lately with all the happenings that have victimized African Americans and homosexuals in the news lately. Maybe it's on the state of our nation, the state of the church, the seeming split of custom and culture, and people on their freaking high horses about how people should or shouldn't be living their lives. I have been reading just about everything I can get my ehands on and my mind is in overdrive. "What, baby?"

"A siren, Mommy. Let's pray."

Brief back-story: every time I hear a siren, I pray. I started doing this when I was in college. I thank God for people whose job it is to respond when people call for help, I ask him to give them speed and wisdom, and I pray for those who are in trouble. When I had kids, I started doing it out loud with them.

As we were walking, I didn't even HEAR the siren. But my TWO-YEAR-OLD did! And she responded with prayer. Cue the mommy heart-swell. Pat yourself on the back, Mom. You have this spiritual guidance thing DOWN. Wait - let's take it a step further.

"Excellent thought, Sister. Why don't YOU pray?" That's right. Let's give her some experience with independent prayer right after it was her idea. That will really teach her. Yep. She will be a regular prayer DIVA.

"Okay," she says, and I stoop a little to be sure to catch what she says, because unlike my son, who tends to say the same basic thing every time, Lucy is a pray-by-the-seat-of-your-pants sort of girl. And so she begins:

"Dear Jesus, please take care of my people. They are in trouble."

She didn't stop there. She rambled on and on in her adorable and utterly indecipherable two-year-old-tongue. But I stopped there. MY PEOPLE. I was stuck on her word choice - not "the people" or "those people" - MY PEOPLE. I thought about how beautiful it is to think of total strangers as MY PEOPLE. I thought about how perfect and innocent and genuine and REAL her compassion was. These people are strangers, but not to her. They are HER PEOPLE. She really IS a prayer diva! (wink wink)

In the days that followed, I was mindful - almost haunted by this phrase MY PEOPLE. As I read story after story, opinion after opinion, angry blogger after angry blogger, hurt soul after hurt soul, it was almost like God was whispering MY PEOPLE to me over and over and over again.

The thing is, Jesus wasn't vague about what He wanted from His followers. In fact, someone asked Him point blank:

“Teacher, which command in God’s Law is the most important?”
Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.'
 - Matthew 22:36-38 (MSG)

And just a few chapters later, He says this:

"'I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,
I was homeless and you gave me a room,
I was shivering and you gave me clothes,
I was sick and you stopped to visit,
I was in prison and you came to me.’

“Then those ‘sheep’ are going to say, ‘Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?’ Then the King will say, ‘I’m telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me—you did it to me.’ - Matthew 25:26-40 (emphasis mine)

Love me. Love MY PEOPLE. It's not complicated.
Even the two-year-old gets it.
Thirty-one-year-old, learn from her. Stop thinking. Stop philosophizing. Stop rationalizing. Stop complicating.

Start
loving.